


It Goes Like This

by tornyourdress



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-15
Updated: 2010-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 02:36:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tornyourdress/pseuds/tornyourdress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It goes like this, one summer... (post-OotP)</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Goes Like This

  
  
It goes like this.

You're seventeen years old and she's not quite eighteen and one night during a summer that's too hot and too restless, because there's nothing to do now that there's no secret plans to listen to, no immensely powerful dark wizards to worry about, she starts stroking your hair. It's as innocent as it gets; you're friends, you've shared a room for as long as you can remember, touching is normal for you.

It's only when she starts tracing lines on your neck, eventually slipping her fingers beneath the neckline of your nightdress, that you start to realise that this isn't the normal sort of touching. But you don't say anything, because then maybe she'd stop, and she wouldn't start again. And more than anything you want her to keep going, keep touching you, and you don't know what's gotten into you because she hasn't even reached your breasts yet and already you're breathing quicker than usual, and it's ridiculous because it's Hermione, it's your best friend, and even if it's not entirely normal it's still a little much to be reacting this strongly to.

The further her hand moves down, the more restricted it is, and you know it's never going to work this way, and she seems to realise it too, and she's lifting the hem of your nightdress up and getting ready to pull it over your head, looking at you questioningly, asking silently if this is okay, and all you can do is nod, and then you're sitting there in nothing but your knickers with your best friend caressing your breasts with oh-so-soft fingertips. You find yourself wondering why it never felt like this when Michael did it, how his attempts at groping left you feeling cold when Hermione's touch has you tingling and craving more, and wet already, wishing she'd just get on with it and slip her fingers inside your knickers, and touch you _there_, but at the same time you don't want this to end.

She's dragging her fingers lazily across your stomach, and you look at her pleadingly, and she smiles, and understands, and she's pulling away the last piece of material that separates you from her, and she's stroking you, lightly at first, then harder, faster, and her fingers are against your clit, and somehow it feels infinitely better than touching yourself, or Michael's fumbling, and she knows exactly when to pause and make you gasp, needing more, needing it now, and she knows when to give in and continue, knowing it's going to be better this way, and she's never been fond of the concept of instant gratification anyway, and her fingertips are soft and firm and circling, slow then fast, slow then fast, and there it is, almost there, here, almost, so close, now now _now_.

And you can hear your breathing, heavier than usual, and she's just there, next to you, and you realise that you haven't even _kissed_ her yet, so you pull her close and you kiss her and you're not sure whether she expects something in return but she seems perfectly happy just to be held, and that's what you do.

And then in the morning you walk in on Harry and Ron kissing and suddenly it all makes sense, and at that moment you want to cry because you thought it _meant_ something, that it was about you, and not them. But it's always been about them.

It goes like this.

You're seventeen years old and she's not quite eighteen and one night during a summer that's too hot and too restless, she doesn't give a reason and you don't ask for one.

You regret it, at first, but then you realise that it doesn't really matter, in the end. 


End file.
